A Father's Choice
by The Escaped
Summary: Because we all have to wake up from our stupors sooner or later. And then we get to see how life has gone on without us. How Alan of Trebond found out his daughter's decision, and made one of his own.


_A/N: This is my first fanfic and any reviews are appreciated._

_Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to Tortall. _

A Father's Choice

Everyone reaches the limit of book-learning, the point where they cannot squint at dusty scrolls anymore. Alan of Trebond reached his one summer and put down his research. His eyes were not as strong as they had once been, and he was required to rest them now and again.

It struck him how quiet it was. That was right, the children had gone off-last year was it?- to begin their training. One would be a lady soon, and the other a knight. Lord Alan might have been fuzzy on their ages, but he remembered that much.

A courier had been by from Corus, bringing the scrolls he needed for his work. A letter sat on top of them, addressed from the palace. The training master with news of his son's progress, no doubt. He vaguely remembered getting one the previous year, though he had been too busy to read it. Maude had gone over it for him, telling him the gist, and he had been able to write an acceptable response without paying much attention.

A stab of guilt pricked him. Marinie had never approved of how he could lose himself in his work. She had been all that was bright in the world, all light and laughter. He had a feeling his beloved would not have been pleased with how he had, or hadn't, raised their children.

It was not his fault, he tried to tell himself. The research he did was vital for the Crown. He could not just desert it for a nonexistent desire to be with family.

The hole in his heart frowned. Marinie never could tolerate a falsehood. He just wouldn't admit he could not bear to see her in her children's faces.

Maybe he could start over, though not to the point of abandoning his research. The children were already off to their schooling. The summers would be enough. Picking up the letter, Lord Alan flicked it open and scanned its contents.

To the Lord of Trebond,

I am writing as your son's headmaster on his progress as a page. Alan continues to excel in his training, particularly archery, though he falls short of proficiency in wrestling…

Alan. Lord Trebond was not in any way involved in his son's upbringing, but he knew his son had been named for Marinie's brother, not him. The one who bore his name was…

_A year-old memory spoke to him. "But Thom doesn't even like fighting. I do! I can do it!"_

No. They could not have been so foolish as to embarrass the entire fief, just for an impossible whim.

Marinie had given up her family to be with him. She hadn't let anything stand in her way. Would it be so impossible that her children would inherit that unfortunate trait from her?

…Alan is well-liked all around. His History teacher will be the first to say he has a will to learn, though his math teacher would disagree. He continues to be a credit to his teachers. We are glad to have him…

He might have known. They had all but warned him this would happen when they had argued with him. The only question now was how to replace them without revealing this scandal to all of Court. Thom would be a laughingstock, Alanna's marriage prospects ruined if they were found out on their own. The thought that he had never given much thought to either future did not cross Lord Trebond's mind in his shock. He had _forbidden _this!

The letter he threw back onto the table as he stalked across the manor in search of long-forgotten travel clothes. He would go to Corus first. Thom might be able to pass for an apprentice sorcerer, but it was a matter of days before Alanna was found out. It was a miracle she hadn't been already. He would find her first, before she disgraced Trebond or was injured.

_A credit to his teachers._ The missive echoed in his mind as he rode towards Corus. Then he dismissed it. Alanna was a girl. The work of a knight of the realm was not fitting for a female of her station. The very idea was proof that he had spent too long away from the facts of his scrolls. He reminded himself of this throughout the trip, not noticing the warrior-women guarding the Temple of the Mother Goddess, nor the women who toiled in the fields along the road alongside their husbands.

A man with hazel eyes lounged by a fountain as he entered Corus. Lord Alan didn't notice his eyes sharpen at the combination of copper hair and violet eyes. He didn't see the man melt into the crowd and take a shortcut toward the castle. The lord's mind was too consumed with thoughts of how unbearably dour his manor would be with two sulking children to notice if a lone thief eyed him.

The castle had and had not changed in the years he'd been away. The walls were the same, though the hangings were different. The people who passed by so easily were strangers.

The stable hand was in an involved conversation with an ambiguously familiar man as he arrived and stabled his mount. Lord Alan had enough to deal with already; he didn't try to interfere. He left him to his argument with the hazel-eyed man as he went off in search of his irrepressible daughter.

In the insufferable way of an alma mater, the hauntingly familiar passageways could not seem to lead the way he intended they go. For all the maps in his study the Lord of Trebond could not find his way through the page's wing.

A boy in page's uniform trotted over when he beckoned. "I desire to find…the page of Trebond." He said, teeth gritting as he said it.

The boy blinked. "Alan? I mean- of course milord. He's a year-mate of mine. Shall I fetch him for you?"

That would take too long, and more importantly alert the girl to his arrival. This whole experience was harrowing enough. Lord Alan didn't want to add a man-hunt to the mix. "That's unnecessary." He said stiffly. "Just take me to he-him."

It was not in a page's nature to refuse a command. The page executed a bow. "At once milord. Just this way."

As they walked, he could feel the boy's eyes on him.

"You must be Alan's father."

Alan of Trebond had never been good with people, least of all children. "Yes," he said shortly, and hoped that was the end of it.

It wasn't. "He looks just like you. He's a good page." The boy added earnestly, "Not that we're close. He's more friends with the prince and his crowd." After this produced no response, he added, "He's not in trouble, is he?"

Lord Alan was stumped for an answer. Friends? His daughter had made _friends_ here?

"Here we are milord." The boy had led him to the training grounds. He had walked by after stabling his horse and never even noticed. Sure enough, a fire-top of hair raced down a track. His Alanna was riding a mare, sword glinting in the afternoon sunlight. She met and parried a blow from a black-haired boy bigger than her. Their horses reared. The next blow hit her wooden shield and knocked her off balance. His daughter's hands slipped from the reins. She fell, and all Lord Trebond could think was that she'd killed herself before he'd had a chance to do the job himself.

The older boy dismounted and peered down at her, a smug look on his face as he extended a hand. To Lord Trebond's surprise, his daughter clasped it and let the boy pulled her up. She came up to his shoulder if she stood on her toes.

A shout, indiscernible from the distance, made Alanna and her…_friend_… look up. A swarthy boy with curly dark hair and the physique of a small bear was pelting from the palace steps towards the pair. He wore the uniform of a squire, a travelling cloak still hung from one shoulder. He skidded to a halt before the two. A grin (and he couldn't remember if he'd ever seen Alanna smile, couldn't remember if she had ever been as happy to see him) lit up his daughter's face. The boy grabbed her by the shoulders for a brief hug. Did he suspect she was more than she seemed? But his daughter was thumping him on the back in greeting. He retaliated by ruffling her hair.

Lord Alan of Trebond watched. He couldn't fathom why he felt such a profound loss at that moment. Maybe he didn't want to. He should have stormed over to Alanna, before he'd gotten a glimpse at her life here, and how much happier it was than her life with him could ever be.

With a heavy feeling, he turned to the page standing obediently at his side. "Who are they?" he asked quietly.

The page looked surprised. "That's Raoul of Goldenlake. He's a squire, must have just gotten back. He and Alan have always been close. And the boy who was with her before is Prince Jonathon. Them and Gary- Gareth the Younger- will probably be fighting over who gets Alan as a squire in a year."

A splash of shock, though after his week maybe Lord Trebond shouldn't be feeling it anymore. "Really?"

"Of course!" This page actually seemed insulted for his daughter. "He's the best of all of us. Whether we like it or not." he added with a wry smile. "And he's friends with all the best squires. It's almost not fair." He glanced behind him then. Alanna and her friends were making their way back to the stables. "I can call him now if you like."

For one instant, Lord Alan of Trebond held in his hands the ability to change the course of history.

Maybe once he had had a chance to change his children's minds. But Lord Trebond had let himself mourn for too long. He'd lost his chance to matter to them. His children had grown up without him-their own way. His daughter didn't need him any longer. After Marinie had passed, no one had.

And she was happy here. Happy in a way that she would never be happy at Trebond. He had seen the look of happiness on her face while she was fighting. This was where she belonged. This was what she was meant to do.

"Never mind that," he ordered the boy, "Let him go."

And Lord Trebond followed his own advice. His daughter never would never know that he had accepted her way of life. That was the way she wanted it. It was his final gift to her.

George Cooper watched the lordling ride out of Corus and his daughter's life for the last time. Content that the lass's life was not to be upended, he returned to the Dancing Dove. His favorite page would be stopping by for a visit soon enough, even if he didn't have news to share with her.


End file.
